


Play the Game

by kingcaboodle



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff and Smut, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 22:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingcaboodle/pseuds/kingcaboodle
Summary: Vivienne decides on one lazy afternoon that not every move must be calculated, and not every encounter must end with the Game.





	Play the Game

 “So,” Cadash scratches her dirt-smudged cheek, shuffling her weight from one foot to the other. “Do you think there’s a chance that we,” she trails off, leaving her question hanging in a bashful silence between them.

 

Vivienne chuckles, licking her thumb and wiping away the grime of an afternoon spent doing Maker-knows-what down in the bowels of Skyhold. “Of course not, my dear,” she says simply. “There would be no benefit in that.”

 

No, sleeping with Cadash offered no political benefit. There was no amount of influence in the grand Game to be gained that Vivienne did not already possess. There was no point other than, what, a momentary diversion from the end of the world? No point other than a bit of fun on an otherwise terribly dull afternoon? Despite this, Vivienne finds her fingers trailing gently down the other woman’s cheek, brushing against her lips until they part in dewy-eyed surprise. She understands that there is nothing to be gained from swooping down to kiss her – gently at first, but soon backed by the anger and grief that had coursed through the First Enchanter’s veins since losing Bastien. And though there is no point to it, Vivienne relishes the hiss that escapes through Cadash’s clenched teeth as Vivienne rakes her fingernails along her scalp, grabbing a fistful of her short, prematurely-graying hair.

 

“You really must do something about this dreadful style, my dear.” She murmurs against Cadash’s neck. Such a scruffy, boyish look. One that Vivienne had seen on the Iron Bull’s lieutenant, no less.

 

She ruminates on this as she allows Cadash to lead her up the stairs to her quarters. Deep in thought, she doesn’t expect control to slip so easily from her grasp; gasping as the other woman pauses briefly at the top of the stairs to – quite literally – sweep Vivienne off of her feet. Cadash carries her as though she weighs little more than a sack of elfroot, her arms strong from years of swinging weapons at least twice her size. With ease, the Inquisitor all but tosses her onto the bed; standing over her wearing a look that Vivienne had only seen once before – when she had accepted the title of Inquisitor in the courtyard. For the briefest of moments, she had seen Cadash for what everyone else did. A gallant warrior with an almost divine air around her, as opposed to the grubby Dwarf who had once led them on an hours-long spindleweed hunt.

 

The rush of mountain air hitting her skin brings Vivienne back to reality, Cadash’s calloused fingers undoing the buttons of her silk robes with a surprising tenderness. She catches Vivienne staring at her through clouded eyes and shrugs bashfully. “They must be expensive, I wouldn’t want to,” she trails off, thick fingers working to gently undo another button.

 

In that moment – and Maker knows it must only be a moment – Vivienne allows herself to feel the rush of affection that surges through her chest. She allows herself to be smitten. Gently shooing Cadash’s hands out of the way, she opens the robes with a single tear, pearl buttons scattering on the sheets around them. Shrugging out of the torn fabric, she reaches up to slide her hands up the other woman’s shirt. “Now are you going to take this off, my dear?” She asks as she places another kiss against her lips. “Or shall I rip it off myself?”

 

Cadash’s response is a moan as Vivienne catches her plump lower lip between her teeth, nibbling gently as the Inquisitor struggles to shimmy her way out of her shirt and breeches. Once she is disrobed, she claims Vivienne’s mouth again, her tongue snaking past her lips as her calloused hand cradles her head with a surprisingly gentle touch. Cadash pulls back as Vivienne pushes her shoulders, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Is the good lady in a hurry to go somewhere?” She asks, laughing heartily when Vivienne turns away in a rare show of embarrassment.

 

Vivienne cannot say how long it’s been since she’s lain with anyone, and the mere thought that a bit of kissing had left her so hot and bothered causes the heat to flare up her dark cheeks. “You must have other pressing matters to attend to.” She says, suppressing a groan when Cadash’s mouth finds its way to her breasts. “It seems highly unlikely that the,” she arches her back, a mewl escaping her lips as she nips and sucks on the sensitive flesh. “It seems,” Vivienne is determined to get her thought out, and she pushes through the moans that are fast-consuming her power of speech, “ _highly unlikely_ for you to have an afternoon off.”

 

Cadash’s response is a hum lost in a trail of kisses that lead from her cleavage to her hip, and the Dwarf has the audacity to cock one saucy brow as she uses those _damned_ hands to part Vivienne’s thighs like the most sacred of texts. “What can I say, Madame de Fer,” her lips brush against the soft skin of her inner thigh, causing a shiver to run up the First Enchanter’s spine. “I think it’s important to make time for my inner circle.” She nips gently, her lips leaving only gooseflesh in their wake. “I know you’ve scolded me about putting in more face time around the _important_ people.”

 

Vivienne can’t help but let out a noise of exasperation, frowning down at the woman between her legs from her propped position on her elbows. “The nobles, my dear,” she chides, “I’ve told you to speak to the – _ah!_ ”

 

She finds her train of thought derailed completely as she is interrupted by one slow lick. Cadash’s tongue alternates between broad, deliberate strokes and rapid flicks, her lips pursing around Vivienne’s clit as one finger comes up to press gently into her center. Vivienne groans as the digit slips in, every muscle clenching around it in an attempt to draw Cadash in further. _Maker, I’m out of practice_. The thought is hazy, lost in the fistful of dark hair in the Enchantress’s curled fingers.

 

If Cadash minds the tugging, she doesn’t let it show, her eyes glinting from the apex of her lover’s thighs as she continues to lap at her heat, one thrusting finger becoming two and increasing in speed. Vivienne moans throatily, one long, brown leg curling around the woman’s dark shoulders, her nails digging deeper into Cadash’s scalp as she arches her back in an attempt to get impossibly closer. _Close, Maker’s tears, I’m so close._  Still pursed around her clit, Vivienne can feel Cadash’s lips curl into a smile, and she doesn’t miss the look of triumph that flashes across her face as her rough hands further wedge her thighs apart.

 

Vivienne comes in toe-curling waves, the golden lights of Val Royeaux glittering behind her eyes and showering down on her like drops of sunlight on the balcony. She hears the Chant, the sound slowly replaced by Cadash’s dark voice murmuring honey-soaked nothings in her ear.

 

For a minute the world disappears around her. The Inquisition, Bastien’s loss, the crumbling walls around them – it all ceases to exist. The thought of letting go is almost too much to bear, and for a moment she grits her teeth and prepares to ground herself.

 

“You know, Viv,” Cadash’s head pops up, her hooded eyes glinting. “I think you might like me a little more than you let on.”

 

Vivienne snorts, an undignified sound that rarely leaves her mouth, but a snort nonetheless. It would be less than prudent to allow herself this one selfish desire. She strokes Cadash’s cheek, resting her cheek against the other woman’s head as she nuzzles into the crook of her neck. Vivienne closes her eyes. She lets the game slip away.

**Author's Note:**

> Why won't Bioware let me smooch my beautiful wife


End file.
